Balls and Branches
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Blaine is starring in this year's NYADA student written Christmas play. After seeing his costume, he really wishes he wasn't. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Notes:** **Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble 2018 prompts 'realism/tree'.**

"You know, I could watch this play a thousand times and still never understand it."

Kurt chuckles at his fiancé peeking out at the stage from behind the curtain. "Blaine! You're _in_ it!"

"That doesn't mean I _understand_ it!"

"You're one of the leads!"

"Yeah. And do you know how many times I had to audition!?"

"Three times?" Kurt says, knowing the answer since they've had this conversation a dozen times.

"Yup. _Three_ times. Once with a contemporary monologue, once with a Shakespearean monologue, and once with an originally written piece, to showcase my range and depth as a performer!"

Kurt stares at Blaine, mouth agape. _That_ he hadn't heard before. "But you have no lines!"

"Nope. I have no lines, Kurt. And do you know _why_ I don't have any lines? Because I'm a tree! A frickin' _Christmas_ _tree_!"

Kurt, who'd been helping his fiancé get into his particularly snug and complicated costume, gives him a once over from head to toe. "Well, these student written plays don't exactly aim for realism, do they?"

"No, they don't!" Blaine snaps, scowling at his body. The green leotard he's wearing isn't only clingy, but _shiny_ , and it shows off everything.

 _Everything_ everything.

That part isn't lost on Kurt, who's bitten his lower lip to oblivion trying to restrain himself from touching things that should not be touched fifteen minutes before his fiancé has to be on stage.

"And the worst part is I can't wear a dance belt in this because the lines will show! And this thong I have on? Not doing a thing!"

"Oh, it's doing something," Kurt mutters as he glues Blaine's curls down with product that will give his dark hair a green sheen.

"It's like being in the Cheerios all over again." Blaine shudders. "And how is anyone supposed to know I'm a Christmas tree anyway? What about this costume screams _Christmas_ _tree_ to you?"

"Your balls?" Kurt says with a surprisingly straight face as he gestures to the small, round, colored ornaments sewn to the leotard fabric. "Oh, and don't forget your star." Kurt combs back the last of Blaine's curls, then helps him on with his head piece - a green skullcap with a bright gold star on top, perched at the apex of a spring cone so it bounces back and forth as Blaine moves. "There! You're all finished!"

Blaine turns slowly, reluctant to look at his reflection in a nearby mirror. But he can't help seeing himself. He could probably be declared legally blind and still see that eyesore of a star bobbing on top of his head.

"This is so stupid," he grumbles.

"That's because you're not lit yet." Kurt reaches up to the base of the star and flips a switch. It begins to flash, rainbow LEDs chasing one another with seizure-inducing speed along the perimeter of each arm.

Yup. _Now_ he looks festive.

Despite Kurt's cheery smile, Blaine can't seem to find his. His gaze drops to his feet, the bowing motion of his head causing the star to wave back and forth, throwing disco patterns over the walls and floor. "I look _ridiculous_."

Kurt hooks his chin over his sullen fiancé's shoulder. "Actually, and don't hate me for saying this, I think you look kinda _hot_."

Blaine's eyebrows pinch in the middle with lightning speed. "Are you … are you _serious_?"

"Don't judge me. _You_ have a thing about _birds_."

"Fair enough …"

"Look, I may not have chosen the star yarmulke, and the little colored balls can take a hike, but this green leotard …" Kurt sucks in a breath through his teeth "… I have to say, it's giving me …"

"… a woody?"

Kurt tilts his head to look at his dorky fiancé's goofy grin and groans. " _Less_ after you said that. But you get the general idea. Now go on ..." He puts his hands on Blaine's shoulders, spins him around, and shoves him in the direction of the stage "… it's time for you to _leaf_."


End file.
